


The Words Roll Right Off My Tongue (and on to your fingers)

by EthanBissbort (ebissbort)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, M/M, POV Alternating, Pre-Slash, deaf!derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebissbort/pseuds/EthanBissbort
Summary: Stiles, having returned to Beacon Hills for the first time since his departure to the FBI Academy, returns to his favorite coffeeshop.The Cold Moon Brewhouse is owned by the Hales, the only two of whom are left after the fire fifteen years earlier, Derek and Cora, and rarely ever make public appearances.Stiles has seen the dark and silent Derek Hale over the years, but when he finally learns that Derek is deaf, Stiles instantly sets out to learn sign language in the hopes of getting to talk to Derek.





	1. Cold Moon Brewhouse

The bustle of Beacon Hills’ busiest coffeeshop, Cold Moon Brewhouse, was a refreshing start to Stiles’ morning routine these days. He had finally graduated the FBI academy, and was assigned to the Sacramento field office, keeping him close to home. He smiled softly as he watched the others sip coffee, knowing that Scott’s father had probably pulled some strings to get him the internship he was currently enjoying.

This Saturday morning was the first chance he had to return to his old haunt. Moving all of his things and getting settled into his routine at work had kept him busy and unable to visit.  
The previous night he had a delicious dinner with his father, which they actually cooked together. The night ended with them spending hours talking about Noah’s old cases, and the three weeks Stiles had just spent getting started in the field office.

Now that he was comfortably settled in his old chair in these familiar surroundings, the sting from his dad still having to work Saturday mornings, especially this one, quickly subsided.  
The smell of the shop gently cloaked him, and his eyes closed. Leaning back in his chair, he passed the time waiting for his order by reminiscing. He had spent quite a bit of his high school life in here studying and investigating whatever cases he could sneak from his dad.

The clarion call of his order being ready cut through the memory he was meandering through. He stood up quickly in excitement, knocking the chair backwards with a bang. He cursed under his breath as he scrambled to pick the fallen chair up before rushing to grab his order. He muttered flustered apologies to Michael, the barista, who smiled and rolled his eyes, “Good to have you back Stiles.”

Stiles returned to his seat, aiming to be much more careful and quiet this time.  
The first sip he took was the perfect amount of scalding, making him blow gently to cool his lips and tongue. The experience was almost spiritual for him, and he soon found himself lost in the depth of his brew.

~~~~~~

With a twinge of disappointment, he downed the last drop, swallowing hesitantly. As he set the cup down with a satisfied sigh, the door to the coffeeshop opened. In strolled someone he had only ever seen in passing at the grocery store once or twice, and sometimes silently brooding in the back corner of the coffeeshop.  
The piercing-eyed Adonis that was Derek Hale walked up to Michael and nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket to extract his wallet.  
He glanced up at the menu, furrowing his brow as he quickly made a decision.  
When he set the wallet down, Michael smiled and began signing with Derek slowly, the young barista’s proficiency level was clearly that of a novice.  
Derek signed just as slowly as Michael, but his movements were fluid and effortless. The way his hands and fingers moved had such an enchanting quality to it, that Stiles completely forgot to take the opportunity to check out Derek’s butt.  
The exchange lasted only thirty or forty seconds, but Stiles couldn’t peel his eyes away from the counter even after Derek had walked away.  
When he finally blinked and returned to reality, the first thing he did is whisk his cup up and head to see Michael.  
Stiles knew nothing about Derek Hale, other than his name, having asked Michael about him the first time Stiles visited in the early morning. Michael had simply shaken his head a little sadly and stated his name. Sensing the awkwardness, Stiles opted not to press for more details.

 

“So...” He started, sliding the cup across the counter slowly as he drew the word out.  
Michael raised an eyebrow expectantly, “Yes?”  
“Derek Hale is deaf?” He whispered bluntly, making Michael grimace slightly.  
“Yes. Since birth. He grew up around the coffeeshop, and comes in here before opening usually to drink the first cup of the day. Which is why you never see him order. He doesn’t like it when people stare.” Michael explained quietly, leaning forward on the counter.  
Stiles hummed as he glanced towards the back room, “Did he see?”  
“No. You’re lucky you saw as much as you did, he literally says nothing other than his order, unless he misses pouring the first cup himself.” Michael said, looking over Stiles’ shoulder expectantly.  
Stiles glanced behind him and noticed the eyes of four patrons on him, waiting for his conversation to finish.  
After giving Michael a quick nod, and a sly smirk, Stiles departed, stealing one last surreptitious look at Derek, who was still brooding in the corner, a book in hand.


	2. Morning Routines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Alternating chapters between Stiles' and Derek's POV  
> \- Chapters will be short, but should come out at least 2x weekly!

The silence of the world was actually a comforting feeling for Derek. He didn’t miss the sounds of the hustle and bustle, the world just seemed more peaceful without sound.  
Sleeping in this Saturday morning had made him late for Cold Moon’s opening cup, so his mood was a bit dour.  
Parking was an issue in this area of downtown, so he had just walked seven blocks to get there, huffing as he stepped up to the door.  
The keys in his pocket jingled gently as he reached forward to open it.  
Immediately, he inhaled, flooding his enhanced senses with the intricate and alluring aromas wafting out of the open doorway.  
He stepped through, heading straight for Michael, his favorite barista and protégé when it came to refining the brews in-house.

He determinedly did not look around, his laser focus on Michael to prevent the awkwardness of him noticing people staring.  
As soon as he set down his wallet, he began to order, slower than he would have liked to albeit.  
Derek signed away patiently, knowing that Michael only really practiced ASL with him.  
By the time he had finished ordering and paying, the world had melted away, and he thought of nothing other than the wonderful cup that was coming his way.

Clearly part of his morning routine, Derek tucked his wallet back in his jacket and made a beeline for the back-most table in the shop.  
The wooden table, shrouded in shadow, had one perfectly positioned light overhead that made it an amazing spot to read.  
With his enhanced eyes, there was no need for Derek to read somewhere brighter, and he preferred not being surrounded by people.

After draping his jacket gently around the back of the chair, he pulled a book from a shelf close to the front counter.  
There was a guy leaning over the counter, someone who he hadn’t seen in the shop for nearly a year and a half, engaged in conversation with Michael.  
Derek knew the sheriff’s son was Stiles Stilinski, but, just like with almost everyone else, he had no desire to interact.  
He quickly plucked the book he had been working his way through off of the shelves and padded back to his seat.  
His bookmark was exactly where he left it, making him smirk slightly. He rather enjoyed being one of the only patrons that actually read the paperbacks.  
The world inside the book sprang to life as he flipped it open, removing his bookmark and picking up his place.


	3. I have a plan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Alternating chapters between Stiles' and Derek's POV  
> \- Chapters will be short, but should come out at least 2x weekly!

Stiles had only been able to return once or twice over the past month, given his workload in the Sacramento field office.  
Finally, nearly a month after the encounter, he had the chance to recount Derek and the coffeeshop to Scott.

“Yeah, how did you not know?” Scott asked when Stiles concluded, as if everyone in town was aware that Derek was deaf.  
“I don’t know, maybe blame the ADHD dude? Jeez, I can’t know everything.” He retorted, glaring momentarily at Scott, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch.  
“You’ve liked him since, what, your junior year when you first saw him?” Scott teased, leaning over to elbow Stiles gently.  
Stiles grimaced, “No, I thought he was tall, dark, and handsome since then, but he’s clearly out of my league. Have you even seen him? Like, damn, seriously.” Stiles both lamented and adored.

The distraction provided Scott with an opportunity to kill Stiles, “Gotcha!” He exclaimed as he drilled Stiles from afar with a rifle.  
“Not fair. I was thinking about hot people. Just like you were that time on Forza when I slaughtered you…” Stiles retorted loftily, keeping his eyes on the screen.  
Scott huffed, “Low dude, low. I was in love with her.”  
Without missing a beat, Stiles asked, “How, slash, when, did you know?” He said, his tone deadly serious.  
Scott paused for a second, his response clearly metered, “It took a bit of time, you know, it just grows on you. I guess that’s the only real way to explain it. One day, it just hits you, and it’s overwhelming.”  
Stiles nodded silently, the corner of his mouth twitching in thought.  
“Please don’t tell me you think you’re-“ Scott started, the exasperation in his tone similar to how he talked to Stiles about Lydia in the past.  
“Oh god no, I don’t even know the guy. He’s just... interesting.” Stiles remarked slowly, pausing to search for the right word.  
Scott shook his head, “No, Stiles. He’s a mystery that you want to solve. I don’t think that’s how a relationship works.”  
Stiles threw his hands up, “Come on Scott, you know it’s not like that. You had to figure out what Allison liked and didn’t like. That’s a mystery you’re solving.”  
Scott growled and turned his attention back to the game, letting Stiles have the final word.

For the next several hours, they occupied themselves with video games and stories they hadn’t covered over Skype.  
As time passed on, the two decided to break out the alcohol. Scott’s attendance at college had caused him to become acquainted with whiskey, so the two sipped together slowly.  
The night was warm, and the moon bright, so their conversation moved outside.  
Stories from frat parties to FBI academy escapades, car accidents witnessed, past lovers, and everything in between.  
The night slinked on into the early morning before the conversation finally died down, and the Jack Daniels kicked in. Both finally had a few minutes to just sit and ponder.

Stiles’ thoughts drifted back through the night to his short conversation with Scott about Derek. He hadn’t told Scott that over the past three weeks, learning ASL dominated his research at home.  
When Stiles set his mind to something, he was almost consumed by it. The amount he had learned in three weeks, despite his rather inept self, had been rather profound.

“Scott.” Stiles said quietly as he looked out into the clear night’s sky, moon slowly rising above the forest trees.  
“Hmm?” Came the quiet, relaxed reply from his best friend, sitting next to him on one of the rough wooden chairs Melissa kept outside.  
Looking down at his long, slender fingers, Stiles admitted, “I’m learning sign language. I’m gonna try to just, I don’t know, at least talk to the guy a bit.”  
Scott sniggered, “Saw this coming from a mile away.”  
Stiles reached over and punched his friend’s shoulder lightly, “Quiet you. I have a plan!”  
“Hopefully better than the one for Lydia. We all know how far that never got.” Scott quipped, leaning out of Stiles’ reach in case of a retaliatory strike.  
Stiles growled this time, turning his attention back to the stars with a sigh, granting Scott his victory.


	4. Chapter 4

A world of endless color greeted Derek from the kaleidoscopic wind spinner hanging from an artist’s shop as he strolled slowly down the street.  
The farmer’s market wouldn’t open for another thirty minutes, so Derek’s waiting time had been occupied by browsing and strolling.  
The way art could be shared and used to influence others had always fascinated him, but for Derek, nothing compared to how making a cup of coffee for someone could touch them.  
Continuing down the street slowly, Derek’s attention was caught from the corner of his eye by a piece in a different gallery.  
A dark, misty grey-blue night framing three men on horseback, riding towards a rising full moon hung suspended by wire from the ceiling.  
His feet paused mid-step, fingers reaching hesitantly for the handle.  
His eyes fell to where his hand rested on the handle, then he glanced inside again.  
The cheerful face of the gallery owner inside pointed his way, revealing a rather attractive young woman with raven black hair and full, red lips. She smiled wider and waved him in.  
However, instead of feeling welcomed, what came crashing through his mind were but the memories of those faces so often turning crestfallen, embarrassed, or awkward when their owners realized Derek was deaf.  
He waved politely before he turned to go, mostly wishing he could just order that work of hers he was intrigued by.

The tiniest of sighs escaped Derek. This had been his life, and he had grown accustomed to the ever-growing divide between himself and others.  
His mood turned a bit more sour when the thought crossed his mind that his life had indeed been great, until all save one of his family were murdered in a case of arson.  
Thoughts of his family made him bittersweet these days, especially given how they universally accepted him and had changed so much to make his life the best possible.

 

Being so lost in thought, Derek didn’t realize that his feet had taken him straight to Cold Moon, despite the fact that he had visited once this morning.  
Chuckling internally, Derek walked in, to Michael’s apparent surprise.  
The barista looked up, eyes widening slightly as they fell upon Derek’s frame entering through the door so late in the morning.  
“Hey, what brings you back here?” Michael signed, intrigue etched upon his face.  
“Just waiting. It’s too early, the farmer’s market opens later.” Derek replied, glancing up at the menu as he signed.  
“First batch of the new arabica cold brew just finished dripping. Sound good?” Michael proposed, glancing to his left towards the machine.  
Derek nodded silently, then departed to his habitual table.

When he turned the corner and his table came in to view, Derek stopped cold. Stiles Stilinski was sitting there, earbuds in, and completely oblivious to the outside world as he pored over the files in front of him.  
Stiles was also completely oblivious, or just didn’t care, that the table he was splayed all over was Derek’s. Derek didn’t know which was worse at this point.  
He felt betrayed, violated even, by the fact that someone had the audacity to sit at what was clearly his table.  
However, Derek didn’t react otherwise, just narrowing his eyes before he turned and stalked to the to-go line.  
Michael looked over, and, noticing Derek standing there, quirked his brows in concern.  
The moment their eyes made contact, Derek shook his head slightly, and Michael immediately turned back to work.  
Derek let out a breath, and on his next inhale, he felt steeled against the vicious world, out to rob him of every little thing that he could still take solace in.  
Michael’s pace sped up, his next move was to bump Derek’s cold brew to the top of the queue.  
A warm little glow erupted in Derek’s chest at this, and his day instantly felt a tad better.

 

Within a minute, he was out the door, drink in hand. Going back the way he came, Derek took another, but more surreptitious, peek at the art gallery he stopped at before.  
The woman inside was nowhere to be found this time, so Derek stepped around the corner and up to the glass.  
Still just as dark and misty, the canvas hung quietly, yet Derek felt like it called to him.  
Several minutes, and several sips, passed before Derek turned to head to the market, albeit a bit reluctantly now.

 

The instant he turned the corner and his senses were blessed by the brilliant sights and succulent smells of the market, any reluctance he had felt vanished.  
He felt like a kid in a candy store, letting his nose guide him to the ripest fruits and vegetables. His enhanced senses made not only eating an indulgent experience, but also cooking.  
Within minutes, he had a couple small bags of fruit, and was headed straight for the fresh spices and vegetables.  
He stopped at his favorite pepper vendor first, before anyone else could snap up his freshest picks.  
Derek stepped up and began examining the baskets of bell peppers. A familiar scent tingled in his nostrils when he inhaled deeply, smelling the first pepper.  
This spicy smell wasn’t coming from the bell pepper, so there must be a hidden basket or two of spicier ones Derek deduced.  
Moments later, Mauricio, the vendor, emerged from behind his van and greeted Derek with open arms and a smile.  
Derek returned the smile gently, then raised an expectant eyebrow and leaning forward slightly to peer on the other side of the counter.  
Mauricio’s shoulders shook, he was clearly chuckling. He put a finger to his nose when he nodded, then bent down to grab a small basket of red poblanos, handing it across the counter to Derek.  
He picked over the few peppers that were in there, selecting the two best with a nod.  
Derek left a five on the counter, and departed with his bag, a small smile gracing his usually dark face.


	5. A Rough-Hewn, Much Loved Table

This morning was shit, it was shit and Stiles knew it. First, his alarm goes off, but in the wrong room, of course, rendering it ineffective. Then, Roscoe decides to play games and refuse to start when Stiles is finally ready to rush out.  
He swore to have a long conversation with his old companion when he returned home.  
Growling at his foiled plans, he pulled into the parking spot with a screech and hopped out.  
As he checked his phone, finding it was essentially nine in the morning, he cursed, speeding up to a power walk.  
He burst into Cold Moon, knowing he was too late, and that Derek had left.  
Michael glanced up to greet him, exasperation crossing his face momentarily as he waved.  
Stiles meandered up to the counter, looking around the shop half-heartedly, his shoulders sagging.  
Michael didn’t even ask, expecting Stiles to just let loose with whatever it was, but was disappointed when Stiles simply muttered his order.

Stiles paid, then walked back to his Jeep with a dejected sigh over his ruined plan.  
There wasn’t much left for Stiles to do but work on files he had brought with him from Sacramento.  
He returned with them tucked under one arm, retrieving his drink with the free hand.  
A thought occurred to him just as he set off to find a table, and he turned the opposite direction, heading for the darker end of the shop.  
He looked down at the table that he had seen Derek at, examining it thoughtfully.  
Other than the fact that it looked fairly old, there wasn’t anything terribly special about the table itself, or the surrounding areas and furniture.  
Stiles placed the files down on the wooden surface and sat in the chair, wiggling around a bit, trying to get comfortable.  
He quickly decided that that chair sucked, so he leaned forward onto his elbows, peering down at the work he had to do.  
“So much work, so little time.” He muttered to himself before extracting his earbuds from his pocket and delving into work.

 

Flipping each page slowly, Stiles studied his most recent case, or rather, the most recent case that had been solved. His job for the first few months was to take recently solved cases and reconstruct the investigation exactly how he would conducted it.  
Their training program intrigued him, and with the way the investigation process played out just like all of his father’s old cases, Stiles excelled at it.  
He smiled down at a page and pressed a finger to a sentence, “Gotcha.”  
He highlighted it in red, then closed the file with a triumphant ‘humph’, then moved on to the next.

~~~~~~~

His coffee had long since been drained, but he wanted to continue with his work without interrupting the streak he was on.  
The morning drained away, just like his drink had, but he felt better for it, knocking out work made him feel accomplished and relaxed.  
Despite missing Derek this morning, he knew he would have more opportunities, and soon.  
When he finally packed up, it was nearly noon, and his workload was nearly completed.  
He smiled down at the wooden table Derek usually sat at, realizing how perfect it was for concentrating.  
Lifting his bag up and over his shoulder, Stiles left his favorite write coffee shop, nodding to Michael as he left.


	6. Derek's Lament

Sunday mornings were supposed to be quiet, Derek thought, but when he stepped into the coffeeshop he owned, it was bustling with business.  
The line was too long for Derek to stand there, and Michael knew what his standard drink would be, black coffee, straight up.  
He looked to his table in the back, which a couple sat at, staring deep into each others’ eyes. His immediate twinge of annoyance was replaced with something warm when he watched the couple stand to leave, sweetly kissing each other, something he and Paige had once done.  
After a nod to Michael, Derek went to reclaim his table, stopping to grab the paperback he had been reading from the shelf as he walked to the back.  
He noticed his bookmark had disappeared, causing a scowl to cross his face. He really wanted to put a sign up telling people to keep their grubby hands off of his books, but knew that others who came into Cold Moon liked to read some of what he stocked the shelf with.

His table was the only rough-hewn wooden table in the entire coffeeshop, and Derek liked it that way. One table for him, and every other table meant nothing. This is where he had grown up, reading at this same table for nearly twenty five years at this point.  
Ever since he lost Paige, the table had looked exactly the same to him, lonely and imperfect. Derek felt at home sitting there, one elbow digging into the tabletop where he held his book open.  
The life of near solitude that Derek left was perfect for him, and his lack of family made it even moreso nowadays. Sometimes Cora would come visit the shop, but she lived in LA, making her visits rare, and quite welcome.  
It was as this thought passed through Derek’s mind that the front door to the shop opened, and he looked up to see Cora walking in, a smile on her face.  
A rare, genuine smile crossed his face, his brilliant white teeth dazzling anyone who looked. Cora walked up as Derek set his book down gently, rising to hug his only remaining younger sister.  
The way they hugged shared more in that one hug than ten minutes of signing could convey, something that they had learned over the years alone.  
Michael personally brought them both of their coffees, despite that neither had ordered any.  
“It’s great to see the both of you in here!” He added cheerily after setting down the coffee, letting Derek read his lips instead of signing in the busy store, which would draw attention.  
Cora smiled at him and Derek nodded, then, just as Michael turned to leave, the coffeeshop door opened and in walked Stiles, FBI folders in hand.  
His head turned in the direction of Derek’s table, but he suddenly turned his attention back to the counter, his order ready to be taken.  
Derek let out a quick sigh, which his sister immediately picked up on.  
“What’s the matter?” She asked, knowing Derek would hesitate to answer for a moment.  
When he hesitated, she pounced, “He’s cute at least, in a tall, lanky sort of way.”  
“That’s not it. He sat at my table.” Derek informed her, eyebrows furrowing as he signed.  
“Oh my gods, just relax for once Derek. It’s a table, perhaps it was the only free one?” Cora sighed exasperatedly.  
“Not important. I come here for my table, not for the people here.” Derek told her.  
“Why don’t you take it back to the loft then?” She asked impatiently, trying to get to the core reason behind Derek’s behavior.  
“Because it belongs here.”  
Cora didn’t argue, knowing it was futile, Derek, her older brother, had made his mind up.

Derek surreptitiously leaned forward to watch Stiles order his coffee and begin his work at a table, or so he thought until Cora leaned forward, blocking his view, and mouthed, “Quit staring at him, it’s creepy.”  
Derek sat up at her words, a scowl forming on his face.  
“I’m not staring, I’m glaring.” He replied, signing without looking back at Stiles.  
Cora rolled her eyes, “I’m about to go ask him out for you, my poor lovesick brother.”  
“Am not.”  
“Derek, look, you need to move on and grab life by the horns or something. Staying here and brooding won’t make you feel any better.”  
“I’m fine alone like this. I get to read in peace and have my coffee each morning.”  
Michael looked over at the pair, who were both gazing in the direction of Stiles, and waved cheerily to them.  
Cora returned the wave, Derek simply opted to nod.  
“I’ll leave you here to brood, but I expect dinner later tonight, and we are going to talk.”  
Derek sighed, then agreed, “Ok, Mom’s special spaghetti and meatballs?”  
Cora beamed at him, “Absolutely!” She exclaimed before standing up to hug him.  
Cora departed promptly, hugging Derek once more, and then giving Michael a hug as well.  
Derek went back to his book, occasionally peeking up to see if the annoying, table-stealing Stiles was still around.  
Derek stayed until he finished his coffee, then departed quickly, nodding to Michael on the way out.


	7. Chapter 7

“Ok, Scott, ready?” Stiles smirked, lacrosse stick in hand, ready to strike.  
“Always.” Came the confident reply.  
Ever since he essentially grew out of his asthma in their junior year, Scott had become one of the best players on the team.  
The best thing about Scott becoming the captain and star player before they graduated was that Stiles got one-on-one time with his best friend and new coach.  
Stiles bolted forward, feigning to the right before spinning to the left and shooting- right into Scott’s stick’s head.  
“Too obvious on the feint bro.” Scott chided him, adding, “Keep your body loose until the last second, don’t let me get a read on you.”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles panted, returning to the starting position and deftly catching the ball Scott returned to him.  
Stiles launched forward again, this time successfully planting his ball into the net behind Scott.  
“Good!” Scott said, pulling his helmet off and walking over towards their cars to put the goalie stick away.  
Stiles tossed Scott his stick and followed him.  
Scott led the pair down the hall, saying, “You’re really good at taking direction Stiles, you know that?”  
“Ha, thanks. Say, mind if we head home? I have some other practice to do.”  
“You’re getting ready to talk to Derek, aren’t you?”  
“Absolutely, tomorrow, I introduce myself.”  
He’d learned so much in such a short amount of time, but had nobody to practice with, being too hesitant to ask Michael out of sheer embarrassment.  
So far his best option for practice had been translating what anyone on the TV was saying. Practice makes perfect, and he couldn’t screw his plan up.  
He had been at it for two months almost, but he had redoubled his efforts, taking every opportunity possible to practice after he noticed Derek watching him a couple weeks earlier.  
As they walked to the car, Scott was chatting excitedly about their chances to make it to the playoffs at UCLA, where he was now a senior.  
The pair headed home separately after saying their goodbyes. This was one of the rare weekends where the two of them were both in Beacon Hills.

The following morning, Stiles was prepared to talk to Derek for the first time, having mastered enough sign language at this point for a rudimentary conversation, which was the most he was expecting anyway.  
Derek seemed like the silent type, but that never stopped Stiles from talking, even if now his lips wouldn’t be moving.

He strolled confidently into Cold Moon, head held high, only to find Derek seated at his usual table, chatting animatedly with a dark haired woman.  
Stiles felt crushed, his hopes for talking to the tall, dark, and handsome Derek Hale dashed beyond repair.  
As the obvious dawned on him, he hung his head. There was no way Derek would’ve been interested in him, because Derek clearly was straight, despite Stiles’ hopes.  
Michael looked over and quirked an eyebrow as Stiles morosely shuffled over to the counter to order.  
“Hey.” Stiles said gruffly, not making eye contact.  
“That’s his sister.” Michael said, somewhat exasperatedly.  
Immediately, Stiles perked up, hope having returned to him... for the moment.  
Michael chuckled at Stiles’ reaction, adding, “Have your coffee, wait until she leaves. Then go talk to him.”  
Stiles nodded, grinning widely as he ordered his usual caramel macchiato.

Nearly an hour passed before Cora got up and left. Stiles’ coffee cup sat there, drained to the dregs as he alternated between idly playing with his phone and drumming his fingers on the table.  
He looked over after she left, and noticed the usually dour Derek had a soft smile playing across his scruffy face.  
His heart lurched slightly when Derek looked over and made momentary eye contact. Cursing himself for being obvious, Stiles flashed the smallest of smiles before looking away, his face glowing red in embarrassment.

Stiles stared at his phone, trying to work up the courage again to get up and actually talk to Derek.  
Much to his surprise, he was saved the trouble when someone tall, dark, and handsome pulled the chair across from him out and took a seat.  
Stiles looked up, his eyes widening in shock as Derek Hale signed, “Hi.”  
There was a pause, and Stiles momentarily forgot that he knew sign language, his mouth hanging open in shock.  
When he finally recovered, his hands flew up, fingers clashing together as he awkwardly signed back, “Hi, I’m Stiles.”  
“Stiles?” he spelled out, smirking slightly.  
“Yeah. It’s easier than my actual first name.” He explained slowly.  
Derek nodded thoughtfully then asked, “So what is your first name?”  
Stiles paused, then smirked back, “Nice try.” He mouthed.  
Derek shrugged, then signed “Can’t blame me for trying.”  
Stiles chuckled, then turned slightly more serious.  
“Why’d you come over here?”  
Derek’s lips twitched thoughtfully, then replied, “You kept staring. Also, you stole my table.”  
Immediately, Stiles blushed and looked away, only looking back when Derek tapped on the tabletop.  
“I saw you sign with Michael once.” Derek informed him, smiling gently.  
“I want to learn.” Stiles replied simply, shrugging as he did.  
“Why?” Derek probed, quirking an eyebrow up.  
Stiles hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much, too quickly.  
“I’m an FBI agent, so knowing languages helps with work.” Stiles explained, albeit slightly clumsily.  
The conversation was starting to test Stiles’ limits, his signing became more and more imprecise as he struggled to find the signs he needed to communicate.  
Derek kept smiling, and Stiles began to feel embarrassed.  
“I’m bad at signing, sorry.” He apologized bashfully, not making eye contact.  
Derek nodded, then signed, “I can read lips.”  
Stiles frowned, then asked, “How will I understand you?”  
Derek chuckled, then spoke, his deep voice rousing Stiles deep down.  
“I’m not mute.” He shrugged, looking Stiles dead in the eye.  
“I mean, of course I didn’t assume you were, sorry.” Stiles apologized, the words tumbling out of his mouth.  
“So what do you do as an FBI agent?” Derek asked, adding, “I saw you working on files when you stole my table.”  
Stiles turned red again, “Sorry about that. It was the only free table.”  
Derek shook his head, “I’ve decided that I can share. Just make sure you don’t take it before six thirty.”  
“That’s when you usually come in?” Stiles probed, knowing he was on thin ice.  
Derek nodded, then looked over his shoulder wistfully at the table.  
“I just left the Academy at Quantico. Fortunately, I was stationed in Sacramento.” Stiles explained when Derek looked back.  
Derek nodded, not offering anything else for Stiles to answer.  
Taking the lead, Stiles turned the question back on Derek, asking, “And what about you?”  
“I own a landscaping firm, and this coffee shop.” Derek replied with a wide smile.  
“Awesome, is it residential or commercial oriented?” Stiles asked, leaning forward.  
Derek momentarily looked taken aback that Stiles was interested in his work.  
“Both. I designed the renovation to the park on the edge of the reserve.”  
Stiles nodded, clearly impressed.  
“I haven’t been there since I left for the Academy.”  
Derek raised his eyebrows, saying, “Go check it out. It’s beautiful today.”  
“Yeah it is...” Stiles trailed off, getting lost in Derek’s steel blue-gray eyes.  
It was at this moment that Derek’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He extracted it, frowning down at the message he received. After quickly tapping out a reply, Derek stood, apologizing in sign.  
“I have to go, they need me at a site.”  
Although crestfallen, Stiles nodded in understanding, then, as Derek turned to leave, he was hit with a sudden surge of courage.  
Leaving his fear in the dust, Stiles stood and grabbed Derek’s arm to get his attention.  
“Coffee tomorrow morning?” He signed, a look of hope dawning on his face.  
Derek frowned for a moment, then seemed to think better of it and nodded before turning and leaving.  
Stiles dropped back into his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.


	8. The First Date

Dressed in a nice long sleeve shirt and jeans, Stiles strolled into Cold Moon, making a bee line for Michael, who was grinning widely.  
“Scored a date with Derek, I see.” Michael commented as he went to put Stiles’ order in.  
Stiles held a hand up, “I’ll have whatever Derek has.”  
As Michael raised his eyebrows, Stiles nodded his head in affirmation, “Whatever he takes.”  
Michael nodded and quirked his eyebrows at Stiles. The dirty joke didn’t get past Stiles, who rolled his eyes and chuckled before walking over to Derek’s table.  
Derek wasn’t there, and Stiles felt his heart sink for a moment before he turned to look around, noticing Derek emerging form the bathroom.  
Sighing in relief, Stiles plopped down into on of the chairs and waved at Derek, who smiled broadly.  
The glittering smile he had flashed nearly took Stiles’ breath away, and he deeply hoped this first date would go well.

“So, how’d your day go yesterday? With the project?” Stiles inquired as soon as Derek sat down.  
“Solved their problem nearly instantly. I should’ve just stayed here.” Derek lamented, making Stiles feel warm and fuzzy. He was pleased that Derek would’ve rather spent time with him instead of working.  
The next few minutes passed with Derek recounting the trouble his crew had run into, and laughing about how they missed the most simple solution for their problem.  
Their coffees came out soon thereafter, and Michael brought them over himself, a soft smile on his face as he glanced between the two of them.  
The rest of the world fell away for the pair as they chatted animatedly. Stiles switched between signing and speaking normally when his vocabulary allowed it. Derek mostly spoke, his deep voice was almost soothing to Stiles, so he let it flow over him and immersed himself in it.  
Time flew as they continued to talk, Stiles delving into his training at the Academy, which really seemed to interest Derek.

“You know about the fire, I assume.” Derek stated during a lull in Stiles’ stories.  
Stiles nodded solemnly, the smile on his face breaking down into a frown.  
“Justice was never served.” Stiles said, and although Derek couldn’t hear the sincere hurt and disappointment in Stiles’ voice, he certainly could see it.  
He reached over and patted Stiles on the arm, saying, “Don’t feel bad. One day I’m sure it will. I believe it.”  
Stiles perked up, nodding firmly in agreement, “It’s still being investigated by the FBI, even though it’s a cold case.”  
Derek shrugged, “It’s a cold case to you, but I have theories of my own.”  
“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, leaning forward, his interest piqued.  
Derek shook his head, “Never mind, don’t worry about it.”  
Changing the subject pointedly, Derek said, “I heard you played lacrosse with Scott McCall, the team is doing really well at UCLA.”  
“You know Scott?” Stiles asked in confusion, not ever having been aware that the two had crossed paths before.  
“Not personally, but he made pretty big news taking Beacon Hills to the state finals.” Derek explained, “I decided to start following lacrosse at that point.”  
Stiles grinned, “Yeah, he turned out all right, for starting off as a skinny asthmatic kid.”  
“So what position did you play?” Derek asked, looking at Stiles appraisingly, “Long stick defense?”  
“Yeah, how’d you know?” Stiles exclaimed.  
“You’re tall and lean.” Derek shrugged, glancing over towards Michael.  
“Uh huh,” Stiles replied, narrowing his eyes at Derek, picking up on his body language.  
“You asked Michael, didn’t you?” Stiles asked quickly, before Derek had the opportunity to say anything.  
Derek looked down at the table sheepishly, then gave one of the smallest nods Stiles had ever seen.  
Stiles laughed jovially, then reached over and patted Derek on the shoulder.  
Derek looked up at him with a quizzical look plastered across his face.  
“Don’t worry, I was terrible. There was never any news about me, as I was mostly a benchwarmer.” Stiles shrugged with a giggle.  
Derek smiled and apologized, “I just wanted to know, and figured Michael would tell me.”  
Stiles shook his head in amusement, “And why not just ask me?”  
Derek shrugged, then looked away.  
Stiles didn’t push the issue any further, assuming it was because Derek was being shy.  
“Another coffee?” Stiles asked hopefully, looking up from the mug he had just drained.  
Derek nodded, then the pair stood up and headed to the counter.

Another hour passed before Stiles bothered to check his phone for the time. Their date had gone so well, he hadn’t noticed a text from his boss ordering him back to Sacramento to shadow a potential new serial killer and a weapons trafficking case.  
“Shit.” He murmured when he read the text, sighing deeply as he learned his weekend would be cut short.  
“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, setting his mug down.  
“New cases that I have to shadow. I have to go back to Sacramento soon.” Stiles lamented, his shoulders drooping.  
“Hey, its ok. Maybe the next time you’re in town, we can have sushi?” Derek asked, signing this time.  
Stiles didn’t understand ‘sushi’, so he answered tentatively ‘yes’, and Derek chuckled before spelling out ‘sushi’.  
Stiles immediately perked up, emphatically signing, “Absolutely! I should be back in two weeks.”  
Derek nodded, “It’s a second date then.”  
Stiles beamed at this, his heart fluttering along with the butterflies in his stomach.

This time, when they parted ways, Stiles’ heart sped up as Derek went in for a hug. He was unprepared for this, not having rehearsed any of this beforehand.  
Derek’s arms, large as the were, wrapped gently and quickly around Stiles, who barely reacted in time, his hands placing themselves awkwardly on Derek’s back.  
It was gone almost as quick as it came, and Derek was walking towards the door.  
Stiles reveled in how Derek felt around him shamelessly as he gathered his bag and headed to the counter.  
Michael’s look was one of knowing joy, having been surreptitiously watching them the entire time.  
“So now aren’t you glad you listened to me?” Michael quipped, leaning up against the counter coyly.  
Stiles snorted, then exclaimed, “You’re the best!”  
“Just looking out for you.” He waved as Stiles turned and headed out the door.

—————————————————

As Derek climbed into his Camaro, he couldn’t help but grin widely, not something he was used to these days.  
Everything went amazingly between them, and all he had to do was “grow up Derek, seriously.” This was as Cora had put it at the dinner they had together in Derek’s loft.

Their dinner had gone surprisingly well after they stopped discussing Stiles. Derek hadn’t wanted to discuss his feelings, like always, but finally acquiesced and opened up.

Conversation-wise, the pair mostly focused on Cora’s South American studies, and Derek’s newest personal garden or landscape project for the new house.  
They were rebuilding the Hale house half a mile in from the previous location, opting for further privacy and security.  
Derek had vowed to rebuild as a memorial when he was a teenager, and had lived up to it.  
They didn’t expect to rebuild the Hale family bloodline, but tried to rebuild the Hale pack itself. Derek was already recruiting, but that was difficult, given his deafness.  
Combat was no problem for Derek, as he could sense you through your own body heat and feel vibrations in the ground through his claws. All his other already-enhanced senses had been given a power boost.  
Despite that, most existing wolves flat out refused to join, and Derek refused to involuntarily turn anyone.

The one problem Derek now faced was how to broach the subject with Stiles, who, as an FBI agent, might not be amenable to Derek’s status as an Alpha wolf.  
Derek pushed that thought out of his mind, simply reveling in the memory of hugging Stiles, finally able to scent him.  
He had felt a little embarrassed that he did so without Stiles’ knowledge, but it was worth it.  
His v-neck still had a little of Stiles’ scent on it, and he lifted it to his nose, inhaling deeply.  
Stiles smelled like electricity and spice, all of which was enticing to Derek, who let the scent fill his nostrils as he smiled softly.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I saw a deaf!Derek prompt on tumblr and just couldn't resist.  
> 


End file.
